A stout wooden shutter, opening inwardly, being removed, disclosed a grating of iron bars. “I do not know what you mean,” he said, “but if you are referring to any little coolness since our marriage let us never speak of it again. Again he played for her; and again the eruption of the strange senses that lay hidden in her soul. ’ ‘But, Marthe, you do not imagine that I would have taken the veil like you, even if you have not told me. Well, whenever you say, I promise to do away with the mystery. You disgust me. And to think that man got it all out of the poorest little love-story for a respectable titled lady! Have you read of it?” “Never. ‘I am not a person, Marthe. Pragmar, the wholesale druggist, who lived three gardens away, and who had been mowing his lawn to get an appetite for dinner, standing in a fascinated attitude beside the forgotten lawn-mower and watching her intently.
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